Page 4 of Give Me What You Will

Sam averted his gaze, making busy work with a fresh strip of gauze and one more check of the wound. His stomach tightened into coiled knots, thinking about the last time they saw each other and how he had ruined the best thing he had in his life. But it took blowing up the best thing in his life to finally be free of it—of him. To give Sam enough space to rebuild a life without Frankie in it.

“No stitches needed, that’s good,” Sam said in a clipped tone, instructing the other nurses to leave, knowing he could handle this without help.

Once the room was empty, Sam paused. The last time he was in an empty room with Frankie…

“Sammy,” Frankie drawled, exasperated.

“We should get you a CT scan, make sure—”

“No.”

“Okay… Well, if you experience a headache later—”

“I know the drill, doc,” Frankie snapped. “You don’t gotta tell me what to do with a head injury.”

Sam nodded, glancing at the door to the ED. “I’ll have Steph, our discharge nurse, come in and…”

“You gonna fuckin’ look at me at any point today?”

Sam stilled. “I prefer not to.”

“And why the hell not?” Frankie growled.

“I think you know why.”

He snorted, “No, man, I don’t. What happened is water under the bridge. Papi died. You were upset—I was upset. I get it.”

Sam jerked his gaze to his, seeing the steel glint of denial to go back to that moment that ruined their friendship forever. Because it did, whether Frankie wanted to acknowledge it or not.

“So, that’s how you rationalized it?” Sam challenged, feeling an icy chill sweep through his bloodstream.

“We’ve been best friends nearly fifteen fuckin’ years, Sammy. We’re gonna fuck up now and again. We all make mistakes.”

“Mistakes…” Sam drawled the word, rolling it on his tongue and deciding that was not the word he would’ve used for what happened.

“Yeah.”

“So, me slipping my tongue down your throat was a mistake?” Sam whispered.

Frankie's eyes sharpened, and then, impossibly, his lips tilted upward in a soft, insolent smirk. “You didn’t get that far.”

Sam stared, stunned, opening his mouth to reply, but nothing came out.

“Honestly, Sammy, eight months over that—? Really? You’ve done far worse to me over the years.” Frankie continued to smile up at him from the gurney, folding his hands over his chest and looking completely unfazed by this conversation. “And I mean, it was inevitable. My best friend is gay, I’m incredibly fuckin’ sexy. It’s bound to happen. You finally couldn’t fuckin’ resist me.”

Sam’s cheeks flushed, and he attempted to cover it by pinching the brim of his nose. “Christ, your ego is the size of Mount Everest.”

Frankie cocked his chin to the side, grinning, “That’s why you love me.”

Yeah, he did love him. That was the problem.

“We’re family, Sammy.”

They weren’t family. Hell, Sam wasn’t even from Boston like Frankie was. They met at Frankie’s dad’s bar, and like a moth to a flame, Sam was captured by Frankie’s easy charm and sexy smile, and the intensity behind his gaze that felt inescapable.

Because that’s who he was.

Irresistible. And apparently, Frankie actually was inescapable.